University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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One Summer Day ME summer day, wKen tKe birds were still And radiant sKone tKe sun, I travelled a road WitK a Keavy load, Even as you have done. I climbed a Kill, wKere anotKer Kill Rolled not very far away, But tKe tKousand cares, TKat tKe wKole world bears. Worried my Keart tKat day. TKen a breeze sprang up, and it played about ; TKe robins began anew ; And my Keart was ligKt, As tKe day was brigKt, Bearing a song from you. And now I sing as I stride along TKe way down tKe meadowed slope, TKougK tKe world makes strife. We Kave not lost life ; Living, we ' ll not lose Kope. A. J.STEISS. JR. 14

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THE REDWOOD 13 mind a ladder was let down. Well, I always would try anything once, so up I climbed. The sight that greeted me ! Ranged round the walls were bottles containing the choicest assortment of liquid joy it had ever been my lot to gasp before. Cognac, chartreuse, beer, wine, whiskey — lord ! The stranger smiled. Then reaching under the bed he drew forth a jug of good old moun- tain dew. ' Tis the last in the land, sir, he said. ' ' Drink and warm thyself. ' ' I obeyed. Never for a moment would I have dreamed of doing otherwise. As I quaffed the fluid mine host watched, at first benevolently, then, as I showed no signs of desisting, apprehensively. Finally, a look of Olympian indignation leaped into his eyes and he tried to pry loose my hands from the death-hold they had acquired on the jug. That look, strangely enough, reminded me of someone — someone prominent in the land of liberty. Who could it be? Ah yes ! Certainly. But no ! How could it — foolish — but — I awoke on the edge of the clearing. How I ever got there and when, I could not tell. All I know is that I must have slept for a considerable period, for I noticed that the grass in the clearing had grown ■ much higher. Painfully, carefully, I arose. Jee-rusalem ! I was stiff. With many a groan I began my slow and agonizing homeward journey. On reaching civilization I was amazed to learn that I had been absent for an entire month. Down the streets of the old town I moved, in much the same way, I fancy, as did old Rip in years agone. That gentleman though, having slept much longer than I had, was greeted by many more changes than I could expect. But wait ! There were the advertisements. Could it be possi- ble, I ruminated, that the quality of the tobacco used in Camel cigarettes was still such as to forbid the distribution of coupons? Did Omar and aroma still blend? Was Dad still the only one on earth who knew why any one should want to smoke Sweet Caps? The sign boards would tell me. I looked. I rubbed my eyes. What face was that, contemplating so serenely the passing multitude ? I drew closer to make more sure. Was it possible ! There in front of me was a lurid representation of my friend of the old house and underneath the picture Avas inscribed the legend ; — Lost, Strayed, but, we are convinced, not Stolen — One William Jennings Bry- an. Finders keepers !

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Cannon Ball Emmett Gleeson. HOT midsummer day prevailed. Over on the opposite hill a coyote, forgetful of his inherit- ance of cowardice, through a stronger in- stinct to satisfy his thirst, braved an approach to a nearby water hole. In the protecting shade of a patch of mesquite lolled two individuals, apparently unaware that the heat waves were taking on a great- er degree of intensity, as they danced over the scorched surface of that bar- ren tract. The one, corpulent and ex- cessively flabby; the other tall, lithe and sinewy, grew too preoccupied in their transaction to admit of any recog- nition of the day ' s warmth. ' ' Now Bob ! ' ' interposed the burly creature, Onct an ' fer all do ya want thet boss? Yuh jewed me down to a hundred an ' a quarter an ' now yuh of- fer a measly lil ole fifty. ' ' He hesitated a moment and glanced at the other hastily. No, by golly! he continued, Any time yuh think thet boss is fer fifty — Fifty ' s the word, Mac, put in Bob eooly and determinedly. Why young feller, thet ' s the best lookin ' cayuse in the country. A hun- dred and a quarter haint nuthin to ast a good jedge fer sich as him. But bein it ' s you Bob, an bein as we alius wuz good Pals I aint goin to let no few dol- lars come atween us. Slip me an even hundred and I ' 11 make yuh a present o ' thet hoss. Why his daddy wuz a steel- dust and his mammy wuz one o ' the — The cowboy lazily stretched his six feet of compact muscle, extracted a gen- erous cud of tobacco and fixing his merry blue eyes on MacDonald, inter- rupted him in his slow Texas drawl. Nope Mac, he said, I reckon ef yuh all won ' t protect my little fifty, I ' d best go look up one o ' them Life Insur- ance agents. Yuh all know that nary a man has ever picked that thar ole banjo for more ' n three jumps. Aw ' ell. Bob, pleaded MacDon- ald, just cause he dumped a few o ' these yere shingle men is no reason why YOU can ' t ride him. MacDonald waddled to the gate of the corral, laboriously hoisted his five by four foot body to the top bar and glared at Cannon Ball. The horse walked quietly around the corral as if awaiting another victim. For a year the name of this beautiful blue roan had been coupled with broken arms and legs, champion riders and unconquera- 15